Undercover
by thequibblah
Summary: "Who said we had to be subtle? It's not like either of us works for MI6." "You won't fool me into snapping into spy mode by bringing it up!" "Are you asking me to step up my game?" "Prick," Lily says through gritted teeth. "Challenge accepted." Muggle spies-posing-as-high-school-teachers AU.


A/N: written for Jilytober '15 - thanks to Adriana & Shefali for having me as a featured writer! I'm putting this up because I realised there were loads of typos on my tumblr submission. Side effect of finishing at 12:20 am on the day of your deadline, folks.

Muggle AU where Jily are extremely dumb spies posing as high school teachers!

* * *

 **Undercover**

Class has barely begun when the door clicks open gently, and a cool voice says, "Mr. Dunham." James can't hide his grimace, and the students giggle.

"Miss Greene," he says. The class titters again, for no reason whatsoever. James grins at them conspiratorially and saunters to the door, swinging it all the way open. Lily Evans beams back at him. "I hope this is important," he says.

"It always is, Mr. Dunham. A word?" She doesn't even blink.

James sighs and turns back to his class, who have been watching the exchange with bated breath. "Start reading, all right?" A collective groan echoes through the room, but they open their textbooks anyway. James lets the door shut behind him and follows Lily into the corridor. "Must we really–"

"I know about the printer."

James stops short. "The what?"

"The printer," says Lily impatiently. "Don't play dumb with me. All my notices and sheets say 'ask me about what happened in Moscow.'" She's full-on glaring at him now.

Despite himself and the glare, James grins. "Did they ask you?"

"They're high school students. Of course they asked me," she hisses.

"What'd you say?" James leans against a wall, enjoying the fury on her face.

"I told them you were an immature arse."

"Hey, how do you know it was–"

"You were the only one in the staff room while it was printing. How daft do you think I am?"

"I can't believe you blamed it on me. That's not very sporting, Evans."

She narrows her eyes and leans close. He can smell her shampoo. He wishes he weren't backed up against the wall. "Oh, it's _on_ ," she says.

The classroom door flies open, and they jump apart. One of James's students gives them a toothy, all-too-knowing grin. "Mr. Dunham, we've read two pages and we need your help."

"Coming, Lucy–" James throws Lily a wink over his shoulder.

"This is not over," he hears her say just before he shuts the door firmly.

* * *

"Miss Greene, we're all out of paper," someone singsongs from the back of the lab.

"Drat," Lily mutters, and picks up the nearest stack of papers. "Here, Sam, use these." The students grab the sheets from her and return to their spots, and Lily congratulates herself quietly. How innocuous. How casual. How… _dastardly_. Yes, she's a genius. She turns away from the back row and the students from James's physics class just as the whispers begin.

"Oh my God, is that Mr. _Dunham_?!" someone giggles.

"He looks _so_ hilarious!"

"Like something out of a bad spy movie–"

"–I can't believe it's him–"

"–this is going on Twitter right now–"

"What's going on?" Lily says sharply, swivelling back to face the students.

They smile at her in sync and chorus, "Nothing, Miss Greene."

"What's the ruckus about? I don't want one of you accidentally burning someone's eyebrows off."

"It's, uh… it's the paper, Miss Greene," says Trent. He's a bit of a kiss-arse – all part of her plan. "It's one-sided." His classmates shoot him looks.

"Yes, I'm aware. Save the earth, right?" _Nice and cool, Lily._

"There's something you might want to see on the back…"

Frowning, she takes Trent's paper. It takes a serious effort to hold in her laughter and keep the frown in place. "Oh, how strange. I got these from the staff room."

"Is that Mr. Dunham?" The question nearly bursts out of one girl.

Lily feigns amusement. "So it is. I haven't seen him in that ridiculous getup in years."

"What's he trying to do? Is it for Halloween?" someone else asks.

Lily laughs, long and half-hysterical. When she's recovered from her fit, the students are still eagerly awaiting her answer. She glances at the clock. "Oh, we're wasting far too much time – get to your stations, now–"

"Miss Greene, _pleeeease_!"

"No, we really haven't the time now. Why don't you ask him yourselves?"

And so it happens that the picture of James Potter in a suit with slicked-back hair, complete with sunglasses, walkie-talkie, and professional expression, makes its way to the desk of one Mr. James Dunham.

"I thought we were supposed to be submitting homework," James says, squinting at the picture as he wipes his glasses clean. "I don't recall asking for – hell." He puts his glasses back on and picks up the sheet. "What's this?" he asks his class. Not too demanding, or it'll only get them more interested.

"A picture of you," says Lucy.

"Lucy, dear, that's a bit scary. Where'd you get this?"

Laughter all around. "Miss Greene's lab. She said to ask you about the weird outfit."

Of course it's Lily. Of. Bloody. Course. But if she thinks it'll be so easy to get him to blow his cover, she has a lot to learn. "One extremely wild Halloween, kids. I learned not to mix tinted glasses and midnight parties. I suppose that's not the lesson Miss Greene was trying to teach you?" The class laughs and James grins. "Now, speaking of explosive combinations, let's get to combustion…"

* * *

Lily looks up and down the corridor and then slips into the auditorium. The drama teacher has asked her to watch the _Pride & Prejudice_ rehearsal and give her valuable input. Evidently she has assimilated very well. But she's safe inside the dark hall. There's no way old Mrs. Carroll would ask James to watch her play.

Lily has spent the past few weeks dodging James's blows and retaliating. One little prank has escalated; suddenly it's an all-out war. James was in the middle of telling her class a story about Moscow when she hurried in; he rushed out before finishing. If her class was curious about Moscow before, they were dying for the story now. So she suggested that one of the dogged reporters for the school paper shadow James for a day in the life of a physics teacher; James led the kid into a quiet corridor and nearly knocked her out with a complicated martial arts move. But he convinced the girl it was his troubled childhood – troubled childhood, her arse – and cooked up an elaborate story for her to write. And so it went on, from her video of James staging a distraction with his disastrous opera suddenly playing in the middle of assembly, to his physics worksheet with thinly-veiled references to her and espionage. _If Agent Green slides down the slope at 35 kmph… The lily statue falls from a height of… How long will it take for MI6 headquarters to receive the Code Green signal?_

But the snug auditorium seat is her safe haven. The narrator begins, "It is a truth universally acknowledged…"

And then a gangly figure walks in and says in an undertone, "I'm so sorry I'm late, Mrs. Carroll, I was on lunch duty…"

No. No, it can't be.

James slides into the seat next to her. He flashes her a smile and turns to look at the stage. She frowns, and inches away from him. Why did Mrs. Carroll invite him? Git. And his stupid scent – something fresh and grassy – is giving her a headache. She tries to focus on Lizzy Bennet. The play is in its early stages, so the students are still carrying their scripts. No one misses a beat until Bingley peeks at his script and says, "…Miss Greene is from MI6?"

Lily snaps to attention at her fake name. "What?"

"Julian!" Mrs. Carroll yells. "Have you lost your mind?"

"That's what it says here, Mrs. Carroll – I'm so sorry, Miss Greene, I had no idea–"

"It's all right," says Lily, shooting a glare at James. As Mrs. Carroll shouted at the cast, Lily hisses, "That wasn't even remotely subtle."

"Who said we had to be subtle? It's not like either of us works for MI6."

"You won't fool me into snapping into _spy mode_ by bringing it up!"

"Are you asking me to step up my game?"

"Prick," Lily says through gritted teeth.

"Challenge accepted."

* * *

When James discovers they're chaperoning a day trip to the museum, he starts to plan. On the bus, he teaches the students a complicated game that involves cards, toothpicks, and truth or dare. For his first truth ("What's your favourite movie?") he says, "I love James Bond."

The game includes most of the bus in ten minutes, and Lily is forced to join in. Her first truth ("What really happened in Moscow?") is, "The Bolshevik Revolution," which makes everyone groan. Her green eyes dance with triumph. That's a look he knows all too well; it's Lily Evans every time she wins during training, it's Lily Evans determined to beat him, it's the Lily Evans he can't catch up with.

Then: "How did you get this job, Mr. Dunham?" Lily asks. Coy. That's Lily Evans flirting on the job, nothing like Lily Evans really flirting. Lily Evans _really_ flirting is loud and laughing.

"Connections," he says easily. "And you?"

"I was my previous employer's favourite," she says with a shrug. James has to force down the urge to leap up and shout, " _McGonagall likes me more!_ "

"Tell me, how did you get the scar on your arm?" she says.

James's hand flits to the round bullet scar on his forearm. He watches her calm expression. "Gang leader held me hostage and put his cigarette out on me."

"That's not the truth, Mr. Dunham!"

"And what if it is?" He's barely listening. Her voice at his ear – " _Get up, get up, get up!_ " Even in the ringing silence after the gunshot, he can hear her shouting.

"Miss Greene, is that true?"

"Not a whit." Lily uncrosses her legs and crosses them again, smiling. James swallows. Get a grip, Potter.

"All right, all right, it was a bullet." Silence. James shrugs. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time." There's a new awe in the way his students look at him now. But all he can think of is the piercing pain, shaking it off, _move move move_ – then her arm around his waist – "Let's _go_ , Potter!" James meets her eyes; she's just as lost in thought as he is, her lips pressed together and her brow furrowed endearingly. She suddenly looks years younger, eighteen and lovely and in training, puzzling over a strategy problem. That's the Lily Evans he can't have. She notices him looking and breaks his stare.

"We're here! Please get off the bus slowly – not like a _monkey_ , Wells–" She climbs out of her seat, and it's over.

* * *

Lily's berating herself for her own stupidity all the way through the museum visit. James's ridiculous comments about every single exhibit to the fascinating questions from the students about his 'war wound'; she's only half listening to everything. Why did she even play that dumb game? She's twenty-four, a grown woman. A woman on a job – _assimilate, collect information, wait for the call._ And yet, and yet… She can't shake the memory of that day, the bullet slamming into his arm. Everything slowed; she felt his gasp, his shaky breathing, his stuttering movements, even though they were metres apart. She didn't think. She ran for him. So much for old flames being extinguished. So much for being professional.

 _Breathe, Lily, breathe._

She's still not quite there when the trip is over and she and James have gathered the kids to take headcount. "Forty-five, forty-six… right, let's move–"

"Miss Greene, we're missing two," James cuts in. She doesn't need to look at him to hear what he's really saying. _Where's your head, Evans?!_ She rakes a hand through her hair.

"Right, right… Who's missing?" She scans the group. "Lucy? Has anyone seen Lucy? And Trent?" Mutters.

"Not since the rocket exhibit," someone pipes up.

Instantly she's on red alert. But James is already talking. "–you stay and I'll–"

"We're both going." No questions asked. "You lot, take care of yourselves. Aaron, Melissa, you're in charge. Don't lose anyone." That is very much against school rules, she knows, but she's far too paranoid and high-strung at this point to care. A gun goes off in her head.

She and James half-stride, half-jog to the rocket exhibit. "Potter, don't do anything stupid."

"Wow, I haven't heard that one since training. I'm a big boy, Evans."

"I've yet to see that."

"A pity, since your approval is all I've been dreaming of these past five years."

"Six," she corrects. He swears softly, but she's not sure why. They skid to a halt at the rocket exhibit – it's massive, a big rocket model in the middle and several smaller exhibits surrounding it.

"You go clockwise, I'll go anti," she says, and starts off. The moon landing, satellites, redshift… _Six bloody years._ No Lucy, and no Trent. She circles back. James is already waiting.

"They're not there."

" _Goddamn_ –" Her eyes catch a flickering sign. "The loo." They race to the bathrooms. But the ladies' room is empty save for a janitor and a bored-looking attendant touching up her makeup. Lily runs out again. "Found them?" she cries. James shakes his head. She wants to scream.

"Wait – employees only." They continue down the hall, and James comes to a stop right in front of a janitorial closet. Something is knocking inside it.

Lily's nerves tighten. "Don't–" But James grabs the handle and pulls it open, and a mop and a bucket come crashing out. Lily can't help the shout that escapes her mouth – "James!"

"Christ," he mutters. Lucy and Trent break apart inside the closet. Lily wants to smack herself.

"The closet?" she says, exasperated. "Really?" Trent gives her a sheepish smile and Lucy apologises.

"We thought you'd been kidnapped," says James with cheer. "Get a move on, we have to leave."

"Wait – you won't tell, will you?" Lucy says. "I don't want to get in trouble! My mum will kill me."

"You know we have to report it, Lucy," Lily says. "Sorry."

A shifty look comes over Lucy's features. "You don't tell about us, and we won't tell about you."

"What about us?" James and Lily say together.

Lucy rolls her eyes. "You can drop the act. Everyone knows you two are dating."

For a moment they're too shocked to reply.

"Ah – er – that is," James begins.

"Go back to the main entrance," Lily cuts in. "We're right behind you. And we're still reporting this." Lily waits till they're a safe distance ahead but still in sight. "All the hinting about spies, and _this_ is what they get?"

"Clearly the education system is failing," James says seriously.

"Clearly."

"Dating, though. James and Lily Dunham…"

"Shut up," she says, only half-joking. _Not this, not now._ His grin fades.

"Did I ever thank you? For saving my life?" He points at his scar.

She snorts. "Don't be melodramatic. You wouldn't have died."

"Thanks for ruining the effect, Evans."

"I try."

"Did I thank you?"

"Yeah, I guess." She can't remember if he did.

"Well, let me do it properly. Over drinks."

She levels him a blank stare. "What. Are you trying. To do."

"Ask you to drinks?"

"Based on the rumour of teenagers, or the threats?"

"A bit of both?"

She rolls her eyes. "Try again."

He seems buoyed by the fact that she didn't shoot him down. Just the eagerness on his face warms her. "We're friends, right?"

 _Oh_. "Not really."

"Partners."

"Of a sort."

"Acquaintances?"

"…all right, yes."

"Maybe I want to further the acquaintance. Maybe I always have."

"Maybe I don't believe you."

"This is where I quote the dramatic line from _Pride & Prejudice_, only I can't remember what it is."

Lily sighs. "How about, 'shut up and show me?'"

"No, that's certainly not— my, _my_ , Miss Greene. What are you implying?"

Lily grabs him by the collar. "Listen, Potter, you're either in this or not."

"Challenge accepted," he murmurs, eyes on her lips.

"Good," she says. "It's on." And the class bursts into applause as their lips meet.


End file.
